Into The Night, page 15
Once he’d made up his mind to study genetics, life became all business for the young Van Kirk. Given his family’s limited financial worth, Marty spent junior high and high school focused on earning grades high enough to land him college scholarships.
“Come on, Van Kirk. Let’s cruise the strip,” his friends would plead. But, determined to keep his grade point average up, Marty usually said no and went back to his studies. Even when his best friend Andy prodded him to ask Annalee Phillips, whose beauty had only grown over the years, to the prom, Marty opted to stay in and do one more review before Saturday’s ACT exam he’d take in the high school library with ten or fifteen of his classmates the following week.
“Annalee has no interest in going anywhere with me,” Marty said matter-of-factly, and he dismissed Andy and his other friends, wishing them a good time at the dance.
His hard work paid off. At the end of his senior year, he was accepted to one of the most prestigious genetics programs in the country. Attending Stanford University was a dream come true for the young man who, so far in life, was only known for his uncanny resemblance to his father. Moving to California and leaving the only life he’d known behind was daunting, but it was a challenge that excited Marty.
“Don’t worry, Gram and Grandpa. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and we can call each other often.”
“I can’t even begin to tell you how proud your father and mother would be of you,” his grandmother told him, tears brimming her eyes.
“Really? Are you sure they wouldn’t think I’m hairbrained for being obsessed with genetics? It’s not something most people around here even think about.”
“Martin,” Gram said with a sudden fierceness as she stared into his brown eyes, “I know you were cheated out of time to get to really know your parents, but I promise you they would be proud. Now isn’t the time to talk about this in-depth, but know that they would approve. This is important for me, too.”
Marty’s heart warmed at his grandmother’s encouragement, and something about what she said fueled his determination to excel in his studies.
Excel, he did.
By the end of his first year in the program, he’d made a name for himself. By the end of his second year, professors asked him to work on small research projects and to write reports for scientific publications. All of his professors encouraged him to apply for early admission into the post-graduate program. Marty’s academic success sped rapidly forward. His hard work didn’t come without a sense of guilt, however.
I promised Gram and Grandpa that I’d come home on breaks, and I haven’t gone to Warrenville even once since arriving at Stanford. I’ve let my work swallow me whole.
The elder Van Kirks’ health had deteriorated since Marty’s high school graduation. Dementia forced Grandpa into assisted living, and a broken hip and other health issues sent Gram to the same facility. The thought of them dying stung Marty. They were old and frail, and any medical crisis could spell the end of them both. Still, he had responsibilities that he couldn’t abandon in California. The more successful he was, the more demands on his time were made, and the months passed without a trip home.
I’m doing this to help people. I want to find a way to let everyone live longer. I lost my parents when they were young, and nothing is going to stop me from making breakthroughs. For now, phone calls with Gram and Grandpa will have to do.
At the end of his third year, Dr. Kellar, the professor leading an elite and confidential genetics study, called him to his office one afternoon.
“Mr. Van Kirk, please have a seat. Is it okay if I call you Martin?”
“Yes, Dr. Kellar, you can. Call me Marty if you’d like.”
A warm smile crossed the professor’s face. “Yes, I’d like to, Marty. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. It’s something I think you may already be aware of.”
Puzzled, Marty said, “I’m not sure what that might be, but I’m all ears.”
Dr. Kellar double-checked his office door to make sure it was shut tightly then returned to his seat. “Your father was an important person in my life, Marty. I hope you know how deeply saddened I was at his passing. The loss of your mother so soon after Pritchard’s death was a profound blow to myself and many others here at Stanford.”
The room spun. Did he just say he knew my father? Martin Van Kirk sat speechless. Confusion clouded his face, and he rubbed his forehead with his right hand, trying to make sense of what he just heard.
“Pritchard used to do the exact same thing when he tried to figure something out. But I suppose you have heard your entire life how much you resemble him.”
“Dr. Kellar, I have to admit, I have no idea where any of this is coming from. I’m from a small town in Illinois. My father worked at the local factory, and my mother was a housewife. No one even knows that Warrenville exists outside the Chicago area. How could you possibly know my parents?”
A deep exhale escaped Dr. Kellar as he leaned back in his lushly upholstered office chair.
“I didn’t know I was surprising you, and I’m sorry if this is a shock. Before we move forward, I want to invite you to join my team. You’ve shown incredible ability in your classes, and you are just who we need for our research and development project.”
“I’m honored and accept.”
“Good. Before I get into the specifics, I think it’s best that you have a conversation with your grandmother. She knows the particulars. I’m glad to have you on my team. Classes end on Wednesday. I’m going to contact your professors and let them know you need two weeks off to return home. You have some business to take care of there.”
Marty didn’t like the idea of dumping his responsibilities. He had two reports to write and a lab to run.
“I’ve got some things to do here. How about if I go in July?
“I need you to start the program before then, Marty, and if you are going to be a part of the project, you need to go now.” Dr. Kellar’s stern look was convincing.
“I’ll do that. Sir, is there anything I need to do in the meantime?”
“No. I’ll meet with you after you return in a few weeks. Be prepared to hit the ground running.” Dr. Kellar rose to his feet and shook Marty’s hand. “It will be a pleasure to work with you.”
The next few days passed in a blur as Marty grappled with Dr. Kellar’s cryptic words. How does he know my parents? Why does he want me to speak to my grandmother?
Uncertain of what he would learn, Marty arranged a flight to Chicago and for a driver to pick him up at the airport for the thirty-minute drive to Warrenville.
Arriving in Chicago at 10:45 Thursday morning, Marty was eager to see his grandparents. The Holy Oak Retirement Home sat on a bluff overlooking the still sleepy town of Warrenville. Riding through the streets of his childhood brought back memories.
Those days of riding bikes with Andy and Mike sure were fun--and sometimes painful. That corner is where I flipped over my handlebars and broke my arm. There’s the ice cream shop where we dared Mike to eat ten ice cream cones. I thought his mother was going to kill us. He turned green and was sick for two days. And there’s Old Man Newport’s house. Gram said his children sold the place and now a young couple who works in the city lives there. I’ve missed being home.
Marty soaked in the sights, sounds, and smells of a familiar world he had forgotten about. Then he saw Holy Oak towering above him with its ornate white column and brick facade.
I’ll meet with Grandpa later. Gram already warned me that he might not recognize me. Besides, Dr. Kellar said Gram was the one I should talk to.’
Room 306 was on the top floor of the retirement home, and as Marty entered his grandmother’s room, he was relieved to see bright sun shining through the window and a fresh bouquet on her dresser.
At least they aren’t living in a miserable place.
Gram struggled to stand at her bedside, but Marty rushed to her. “Gram, you stay right where you are. It’s taken me this long to come to see you, and I’m the one who needs to make you comfortable.”
She winked back tears and smiled. “You have always been such a thoughtful boy.”
For about half an hour, they chatted about local gossip, Grandpa’s condition, and whether or not Marty had gotten enough to eat at school.
“Don’t worry, Gram. I eat well enough. I put in so many hours in the lab that I keep food in the fridge at work. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“A good home-cooked meal is what you need. But you didn’t travel all the way to Warrenville to talk with me about food. What’s really on your mind? You haven’t answered me on the phone when I’ve asked what brings you here.”
Marty smiled a sheepish grin and flipped his hair out of his eyes. I could never hide anything from Gram.
“What I’m going to say to you might not make any sense. I know it doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Spit it out, boy.”
“One of my professors, Dr. Kellar, has asked me to join his project at Stanford.”
Gram stopped in mid-sip of her coffee. “Kellar? Anson Kellar?”
Now Marty was genuinely perplexed. How would his grandmother know the first name of the leading geneticist at Stanford?
“Yes, Gram, but how--”
“It’s time we have a talk, Martin. How much did Anson tell you?”
“Not much. He said he knew my mother and father. Then he told me before he said any more that I needed to talk with you.”
“Oh, Marty, he’s right. It’s something we should have talked about long ago. I just couldn’t bring myself to get into it. Did he tell you how he knew them, or what it is exactly that he works on?”
“No.”
“Anson Kellar is good at what he does. He and your father were classmates at Harvard.”
“Wait, Dad went to Harvard? I thought he worked at the local plant.”
“That’s just what we told the neighbors, son. What Pritchard and Melba were involved in was way too top secret for us to go blabbing to the Cunninghams across the street. And we wanted life to stay as normal for you as possible, so we told everyone Pritchard worked at Dell Chemicals.”
“What did he really do?”
“Government work. Top secret government research. He and Anson accepted positions at Stanford to work on their projects.”
“Research into what?”
“It’s no mystery, Martin, why you were drawn to genetics. Your father and Anson were some of the first scientists to study cloning. But it went farther than that.”
“Farther?”
“Look, Marty, I want you to know first and foremost that you are very loved, and you have always been very welcome in our lives. Your grandfather and I always wanted Pritchard and Melba to have a family, and when you came along we were thrilled. I don’t want what I’m about to tell you to change that in any way in your mind.”
Marty sat motionless as Gram began, as all things should, at the beginning. She detailed the first signs that Pritchard was different from other people. How Anson was the first to notice his body’s special abilities.
“So Dad researched cloning because of some physical ailment that he had?”
“Not exactly. He was already on the research team. Each member volunteered tissue to be used in the experiments. Only Pritchard’s sample was different from everyone else’s.”
“How so?”
“Most of the tissue samples weren’t viable. They failed to duplicate, regardless of how many ways the researchers attempted to clone their cells.”
“And Dad’s?”
“His never failed. Something about Pritchard’s cells made them replicate, perfectly, every single time. And that explains you.”
“Wait… What do you mean it explains me?”
“Well, you and the others…”
For a moment, the room froze and Marty’s world came to a halt.
“Others?”
“Yes, there are others. At least thirty. All are older than you. They were quickly scooped up by other research centers and the government. It bothered Pritchard and Melba to know his genetic offspring were snatched away, but it was part of the territory for the work he was involved in.”
“So I have siblings?”
“Not siblings in the normal sense. You have duplicates.”
“I was created in a petri dish?”
“In the most basic way, yes.”
“And my mother wasn’t really my mother?”
Gram’s anger flared. “Now let’s get one thing straight, Martin Van Kirk. Melba Dawson Van Kirk was and always will be your mother. It’s because of her that we were able to keep you in the first place.”
Martin reeled.
“Have a seat, Marty. It’s time you understood it all.”
“First of all, your grandfather knows nothing about any of it. Pritchard always had a distant relationship with his father, and he didn’t want to risk state secrets escaping. Your grandfather loves to tell stories, and the temptation may have been too great for him to keep his mouth shut. Just Pritchard, Melba, myself, and Anson and the research team, of course, knew the truth.”
“Just what is the truth. Why was I raised by you? What happened to my parents?”
“Pritchard became the subject of many studies. The government lacked the finesse it has now in studying such things, and they subjected your father to high doses of radiation, hormones, and other chemicals, attempting to find the key to his ability to replicate. It took a terrible toll on his body, and even Melba suffered secondhand effects of the radiation. That’s what killed them.”
“Why did I stay in the family when the others were taken away to be studied?”
“It was your mother’s idea. She knew Pritchard was becoming weaker with every test, and she didn’t know how long he would last. She begged him to create you--to have a part of him that would live on. Melba had always wanted children, but the scientists warned that your father’s reproductive system was compromised by the experimentation. Having children, in the normal sense, was out of the question. Instead, they had you. And you were the apple of their eye, as the saying goes. No little boy was ever loved more.”
Marty’s entire existence shifted on its axis.
“Dr. Kellar has known all this?”
“Anson has known the entire time. He helped make the arrangements for Pritchard and Melba to have, and keep, you. He had to pull all the strings he had to do it, too.”
A realization struck Marty. “I didn’t get accepted to Stanford because of my ACT scores, did I?”
“No, Martin, you didn’t. Anson has tracked you throughout your entire life. He and I have talked often about exactly how you would cross paths with him.”
“When I was little and you took me to the doctors, those trips weren’t always for you or Grandpa, were they?”
“They weren’t. We took you in for monthly routine observations. Those suckers they gave you to taste, then took away, were for testing purposes. They used your saliva and DNA to study how your cells reacted to duplication. Anson wanted to know if you had inherited Pritchard’s ability to replicate.”
“And?”
“You did. You are a perfect replicator.”
“Are there other versions of me out there?”
“No, they never crossed that line. You were a child. Now, however, you are an adult, and a scientist, and you and Anson Kellar have some conversations in your future. You are special, Marty, in so many ways. We waited until the time was right to tell you. We felt you deserved a carefree childhood. Now you have some decisions to make.”
How do I continue to walk around like normal knowing my very existence isn’t what I thought it was?
“Gram, I love you, and I know you never intended to hurt me. I am hurt, though. I can’t even wrap my head around this. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow. For now, I’m going to see Grandpa. I need some time to clear my head.”
“I understand. I really do. I’ve known for decades, and it’s still too much for me to take in. Just remember you are loved.”
He was relieved when his grandfather momentarily remembered who Marty was as he flooded him with tears and questions about college. Grandpa only knew him as his grandson and not as a test subject in an experiment. After their short visit, Marty walked out of the Holy Oak Retirement Home.
The sun was shining and birds sang as he walked towards the only home he could remember: 1625 East Millsap Lane. Passing Monroe Park, the ice cream shop, and a thousand other points of memory, Marty wondered if his life had been too focused. The friends he’d made as a boy truly cared about him. What would life have been like if he’d stayed behind and never went to California? How different would his life be? Andy always teased him that he and Annalee Phillips would make pretty babies.
I wonder if Annalee would ever believe that I can make my own kids without anyone else’s help? How would anyone understand that? How I wish I had my innocence back. Warrenville seems like a perfect world. Now I don’t even know where I fit. Am I going back to Stanford to become a laboratory rat?
Marty’s thoughts were distracted by a honking horn.
There, at the intersection of Honeysuckle Road and Kramer Avenue, sat a stunning blonde in a baby blue convertible. “Martin Van Kirk! You’re just as handsome as ever. Are you going my way? I’ll give you a ride.”
Annalee Phillips, glowing in the bright May sunshine, sat before him, smiling that dimpled grin that turned the head of every boy in Warrenville.
I’ve spent every waking moment of my life thinking of nothing but science. Now I question what my life even means. I’ve never had any fun like other kids my age. It was always study, study, study. Maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to my future than labs and tests.
Martin Van Kirk flipped his hair and opened the passenger door. “Annalee, I’d love to be going your way.”
The next two weeks were a rush of emotions Martin had never felt before. His grandmother’s confession, on the one hand, left him feeling betrayed.
